


Silver Linings

by BloodEnvy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: You're left heartbroken when, on the night before you were going to propose, your boyfriend dumps you. Your best friend, a secretly-smitten Clint Barton is sent by Natasha to find you for a night out, and is left to help you pick up the pieces.





	Silver Linings

You had to hand it to Stark; his taste in interior design made even heartbreak seem high-end and artistic.

Curled up by the floor-to-ceiling window in your room in the Avengers Tower, your back was resting against the wall and your shoulder was chilled by the glass, even through the sleeve of your sweater. Your knees were pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped around them tightly, and your whole body felt stiff from lack of movement, but you made no move to stretch out the ache.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been sitting there like that, or even when you’d decided to sit down. You barely remembered the subway ride home or walking back into the tower, getting back to your room. A tiny part of you had been vaguely surprised you hadn’t run into any of the others on your way, but a larger part had been grateful for it. You’d been sitting by the window long enough that your unfocused eyes had watched the early evening light give way to darkness as the lights of Manhattan flicked on one by one.

Your own light was off; the only warmth in your room came from the television. It was muted; you hadn’t once turned your head to see what was on the screen. Your eyes were starting to burn from the lights outside, but you didn’t want to blink.

You just felt… numb.

You were pulled from your revelry by the sudden opening of your bedroom door – apparently, you’d forgotten to lock it behind you. You winced; your eyes burned as the lights switched on and you rubbed them as Clint entered the room.

“Y/N, what are you doing, sitting in the dark?” he asked jovially, clapping his hands together as he came to a stop in the middle of the room. You had no doubt that even with you tucked away in the corner and obscured by the bed that his clever eyes had spotted you immediately. His chuckle proved it. “Ooh, JARVIS, better dim the lights there, man.”

The lights faded to a duskier quality immediately, and you lowered your hand gratefully.

“You were supposed to meet us downstairs ten minutes a…go…” Clint trailed off, his eyes on the T.V. “Are you seriously watching _Here Comes Honey Boo Boo_ right now? I mean, no judgement, I’m down, but I’m gonna need a beer and you’re the one telling Nat we’re bailing on drinks.”

“Drinks. Right. Right, sorry. I totally lost track… track of time,” you said, flustered. You winced at how hoarse your voice was. You wiped hastily at your cheeks as you stood; your skin felt tight from long-dry tears.

You’d completely forgotten you’d made plans to go out with Natasha and Clint tonight – Nat had been out of the city on a recon job for the last week and half with a couple of SHIELD agents. She’d called you on day three to demand that you take her out the minute she got back to New York to blow off steam.

Translation: shots and dancing.

While he would undoubtedly refuse to do the latter, you’d found it surprisingly easy to rope Clint into joining the two of you. All you’d had to do was say ‘please’ and promise to buy the first round. You knew Nat was looking forward to tonight; it was a small blessing that she’d allowed Clint to come and get you rather than drag you out herself.

Avoiding Clint’s eye, you straightened the sleeve of your sweater anxiously. Your eyes were on the floor, the bed… anywhere but your friend. If you made eye contact, you knew he’d figure you out. And you couldn’t let that happen; you couldn’t come undone again.

You had to be okay, you were an Avenger, damn it.

“Give me a second, I’ll just…” you cleared your throat. “I’ll just change. I can meet you downstairs, if you want—”

You made more to walk past him, towards the walk-in wardrobe you’d coveted when you’d first moved in. Clint caught your arm and turned you back to face him gently, and you avoided his gaze.

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N,” he said softly, concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, eyes fixed on his chest. You noticed idly that he’d actually dressed up for a night out, at least as much as Clint Barton ever did. Dark jeans, a grey, well fitted tee-shirt and a leather jacket. Tony had given it to him last Christmas, and from the way it hung on his frame, you were always sure that it had been made specifically to Clint’s measurements. “Nothing, Clint, I’m fine. I just have to get changed…”

You tried to step past him again, but he took hold of your other arm as well, holding you in place. His thumb rubbed circles into your bicep through the wool of your sweater. “Y/N, baby, you know you’re not fooling me, right?”

The tiniest of smiles broke through your frown despite yourself, even as you felt a tear spill onto your cheek. “You’re not supposed to call me that.”

“Can’t help myself,” Clint replied easily, the hint of a laugh in his voice. It was an old joke between the two of you; in truth you had no problem with him calling you ‘baby’.

Tony had organized a night out for the team after the battle in New York to help you all gain a rapport, and you’d all ended up at a bar after a few hours. You’d gone to order a round (on Tony’s open tab) and it hadn’t been long before some pushy asshole to approach you. You’d been deciding whether you were going to use a fist or a force field to knock him on his ass when the then-practically-a-stranger Clint Barton had chosen to intervene.

He’d wrapped an arm around your shoulders, given you an affectionate squeeze and when asked, declared himself your boyfriend. Between Clint’s really unsettling over-friendliness an Nat’s kill-you-slowly smile from the table you’d just left; the guy had been practically tripping over himself to leave.

Clint had called you ‘baby’ during that incident and hadn’t really stopped since. You’d always do your part and protest, but you didn’t really mind, even if other people did.

The archer tucked a finger under your chin, raising it so you were forced to meet his eyes. His expression mirrored the worry in his tone, but his lips were curved in a soft, familiar smile. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“I’m deaf, Y/N, not blind.” Clint smirked, pushing hair away from your face. “C’mon. Out with it.”

You exhaled shakily and rolled your eyes for his benefit, holding up your hand. You hadn’t opened it for hours now; your fingers felt stiff as you forced them apart to show him the elegant, understated engagement ring resting on your palm.

Clint’s steady breathing faltered. He stared down at your hand for what felt like forever, and you saw him swallow. He met your eyes again, but his smile suddenly seemed strained.

“Y/N, if you’re proposing, I have to say I’m flattered, but I never expected Mama June to be present.” He joked, nodding to the T.V.

You couldn’t help it, you burst into tears. Your head fell against Clint’s chest, and you sobbed into his tee-shirt, completely heedless of the fact that you were most likely ruining it. Your throat felt raw and your chest ached, but you couldn’t stop. You dropped the ring, clinging instead to his jacket.

“Hey, woah, Y/N…”

To say Clint was taken aback was an understatement; you rarely had reason to be this upset. Even as one of your closest friends in the tower, the most he’d seen you cry was when he’d walked into your room right after you’d rewatched something depressing. And then he’d just make fun of you and steal the remote.

He hesitated for a moment before wrapping you up in a hug, cradling your face against his chest. His chin came to rest on top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” he asked after a moment, pulling away to look you in the eye again. “I thought you and Mark were good? A proposal is a… a good thing, right?”

You shook your head, wiping your eyes with your sleeves. “He… he didn’t.”

“Y/N, please tell me what’s going on,” Clint begged, confused. “’Cause I am completely lost here.”

Exhaling slowly to try and calm down, you pulled away from him, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, and pushed your hair back out of your face. “He didn’t…” you sighed, trying again. “Mark didn’t propose to me. I… I was going to propose to him.”

“’Going to’?”

“Tomorrow night, had it all planned. He…” your voice broke, barely a whisper as you continued. “He dumped me.”

“Son of a bitch,” Clint muttered, shaking his head. He sat down beside you, reaching for your hand. You caught it with your own, tangling your fingers together. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“He said he couldn’t be with… someone like me.”

“Since when is your ability—”

“It’s not the ‘kinesis,” you explained, suddenly feeling drained. “I mean, yeah, it took him a while to come to terms with it when he found out, but… he didn’t care that I have this… ability. He just couldn’t be with an Avenger.

“He said that ever since the whole Loki thing – ever since I joined the team – I haven’t been ‘his’ anymore. And he doesn’t want to always be sitting up at night, wondering if I’m off ‘saving the world’ when I’m supposed to be at home or out with him. He… he said he didn’t want to share me with the rest of you.”

“What a… _dick._ ” Clint cursed disbelievingly after a moment, running a hand through his hair. “How did you—” he cut himself off, teeth in his bottom lip.

“Put up with him for so long?” you guessed, a self-deprecating half-smile on your lips.

Clint grimaced at you sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No, I guess you’re… you’re right. He was kind of an asshole.”

“Okay…” Clint tried, confused. “Then if you knew that…?”

“Why am I so upset?” you offered, and he nodded. “It was three years of my life, Clint. He was in my life… a huge part of it for three fricking years. Mark’s been with me through a lot, and even if it wasn’t all I wanted it to be, it still sucks to get dumped. I don’t know, maybe I was proposing because I wanted to keep that part of my life… the part where I was just another girl in New York, working part-time, struggling through a lit programme and saving up for an apartment that would let me have a pet bigger than a goldfish.”

“That can create force fields with her mind,” Clint added, smirking.

“Exactly. Completely normal,” you joked weakly before you shook your head. “I don’t think I’m sad about Mark. I mean, I am, but I’m not devastated. I’m… worried that he’s right.”

“About what?”

You released his hand, and he brought it back to his own lap, clasping it with the other. “About the fact that I’m never going to get a normal life. None of us are, are we? We’re never going to get to meet someone at a coffee shop or a bar or however the hell people meet and say ‘hey, I want to spend the rest of my life with you’.”

“Y/N…”

“We’re never going to be able to get married and get a dog and a shitty apartment and just worry about stupid little things like making rent or whose parents we’re going to spend Christmas with, are we? I mean, Mark wants kids.” You said, throwing up your hands. “I don’t even know if I want that! I’ve never even really thought about it because every time someone brings them up I end up picturing myself ballooned out to here in my mission gear,” you held a hand out in front of your stomach, blowing out your cheeks.

“I think Fury would let you take maternity leave,” Clint pointed out with a chuckle.

“And then what? We have aliens come raining down on the city again and I’m calling up the husband saying ‘sorry, honey, I know I said I’d watch the kids today, but I’m gonna need you to call a babysitter. Oh, and don’t worry about dinner, I could be dead by then!’?”

“Y/N… are you…” Clint swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want to leave the team?”

“What? No!” you said, surprised. The stress marring your face softened, and you wrapped an arm around his waist. You gave him a squeeze, resting your head on his shoulder. “No, Clint. I love you guys. You, Nat, the whole team. I couldn’t leave. I don’t even know if all that stuff is something I want yet.”

He let out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and you straightened with a sigh. “And as much as the idea that I’ll be alone forever because we’re too busy taking down some terrorist cell or something terrifies me, I hate the idea of having this power…” you raised your hands, projecting a small, shimmering disc of psychokinetic energy in front of the two of you. You could feel tears on your cheeks again, your eyes blurring. “…and not using it to actually make a difference.”

Your concentration broke as Clint’s hand rose hesitantly to wrap carefully around yours, and the force field you were holding flickered into nothingness. His skin was warm against your own, his fingers calloused but his palm soft. There was a band-aid on the back of his hand, and another further up his arm. His fingers curled around yours, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“Y/N,” he said gently, and you tore your gaze away from your hands to turn it to his face. His eyes were soft, smoldering with an affection you hadn’t seen in them before. Concern was there too, and sympathy. His hand squeezed yours again, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “You’re not going to die alone. You’re still in your twenties, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re gorgeous… it’s not going to take much more than a few seconds for guys to see that. Besides,” he joked lightly, “You think me and Nat are going to go anywhere anytime soon?”

You watched his face carefully, a little surprised. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“C’mon, you have to know you’re a knockout,” Clint replied gruffly after a moment, shrugging awkwardly. “My point is… what we’re doing now, the world-saving thing. Yeah, it’s crazy, but it isn’t forever. You really think Cap’s going to be lugging that shield around in his sixties?”

You smiled, “He’s in his nineties.”

“Ok, bad example, but…”

“I see your point,” you agreed, letting go of his hand so you could pull him into a hug. His arms curled around your waist, one, hand settling on the small of your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your collarbone, and your arms tightened briefly around his neck, your hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s just… Clint, don’t you ever wish you could just be selfish, just once? Don’t you ever just want to say, ‘fuck it’ and do whatever you want and say to hell with the consequences?”

Clint pulled away enough to meet your eye, and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught slightly when you realized how close the two of you were. His eyes burned into yours in the low light, the power of them holding you in place. You licked your lips subconsciously, and you suddenly felt so aware of every place your body touched his. Your back tingled under his hands, a shiver running through you as they slid to rest on your waist. One ghosted up your arm and over your shoulder to brush hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His gaze fell to your lips for a moment, his thumb brushing against your cheek. It touched your lips briefly, a whisper against your skin.

Your voice came as a murmur. “Clint…”

A sound of a throat being cleared snapped the energy hanging between the two of you, and you pulled away, surprised. Nat was leaning against your doorframe, her arms folded over her chest. She was watching the two of you with a delicate eyebrow arched and an amused smirk curving her lips.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Clint released your waist, and you straightened your sweater self-consciously. “We were just talking.”

“Sure, you were,” Nat said sarcastically. “Are we going out or not? I’m sure you can still ‘talk’ at the bar.”

Clint rolled his eyes at her, and you hurried to the walk-in. “Of course, we are, just give me a second to change.”

“Uh-huh,” Nat said, and Clint moved to join her, giving you enough privacy to change unseen. With you occupied, she nudged him in the side pointedly and grinned.

“Finally decided to make your move, huh? What happened to Mark?”

Clint’s cheeks darkened, and he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story.”

“Eh, he was a tool,” she said plainly, raising her voice. “Y/N! You coming or what?”

You stepped out of the walk-in, fixing your hair. You’d changed into a top with a sweetheart neckline and a peplum waist, cleaned your face and applied enough makeup to hide any remnants of your breakdown. “Happy?”

Nat slung an arm around your shoulders, bumping her hip against yours. “Oh, honey, you have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'll write a story where Clint actually catches a break and isn't interrupted soon! Check out "It's Not a Date(Night)" for some Clint/Reader fluff, feat. sassy tony, nat and sam :)
> 
> Don't forget to comment/leave kudos!


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